The Devil Inside Page 3

  He held his private investigator licence up to the letterbox and she frowned at it.

  “Okay,” she said before the letterbox snapped shut. There came the sound of chains being undone and locks being turned. It went on for so long Brodie had time to check his phone, slipping it back into his pocket when the door finally swung open.

  A short, pale-faced woman with a cloud of curly mousy brown hair blinked up at him with sad grey eyes, being careful to keep behind the door.

  “Get in quick,” she told him.

  He stepped inside and she slammed the door shut behind him.

  Brodie was a little startled by the number of locks and bolts on the door, which was reinforced with steel on the inside, so it couldn’t be kicked in. Judging by that and the air of nervousness hanging over her, Elaine was one scared lady. From the quick check he’d asked Cass to run on her he knew she was thirty two but she looked ten years older.

  “You’ve spoken to Susan?” was her first question.

  “Aye, she came to my office this morning. She wants me to investigate Higher Light because she’s feared they’ve kidnapped her son.”

  “They have but poor Steven won’t realise it,” she said sadly. “Come away in then.”

  Elaine led him through to the lounge, which was pleasant but sparse, just the bare essentials, no personal items except for a few framed photographs. The air was stale, as though the windows hadn’t been opened in a long time.

  “I’m renting this place,” she explained. “Fortunately it came furnished. When I joined the church I sold my house and practically everything in it and gave the money to them. Thank God I kept a bit of it back. I felt guilty about it at the time but something told me I was going to need it.” She sighed and gestured to the dark green couch. “Take a seat.”

  “Thanks doll,” he replied, perching on the edge, sitting ramrod straight. Thanks to the cloud of anxiety surrounding Elaine it was impossible to relax in her presence.

  “I researched your company on the internet,” she said, taking an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair by a small desk. “You’ve got a good reputation and you have great reviews.”

  “Thanks doll. It’s taken me years to build up my reputation in the city but I was already known thanks to my time as a polis.”

  The mention of the police soothed her a little and she nodded. “So, what do you want to know?”

  “Whatever you can tell me. I need all the information I can get about the church.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath, pain momentarily passing across her face before she wiped it away. “Four years ago I was going through a bad patch. My marriage had broken up, mainly because I’d found out I was infertile. My husband couldn’t handle it, he was desperate for kids. I didn’t blame him, I understood how he felt. I became depressed, my GP put me on anti-depressants but they made me feel ill. Then my father died. I remember wandering around the city, lost, feeling sick, wondering how the hell I was going to cope without Matthew. I was almost tempted to throw myself into the Clyde. I don’t know what drew me there but I walked into the church. I had no idea what sort of church it was, I wasn’t at all religious and I come from a family of atheists but I’d tried everything else - pills, counsellors, meditation, acupuncture, even yoga and nothing made me feel better. So I thought, why not? I remember sitting in the church. It was so cool and calm inside, no one else was there.”

  “What does it look like inside?”

  “Well, it’s flat-roofed, not vaulted like other churches, very modern, all cream walls. There’s an ornate gold altar with a painting of Edward Carr who started the church hanging above it and another of Malachi, the current leader,” she said, gaze darkening. “It still has wooden pews, like a traditional church and a wooden lectern at the front where the church leader stands to preach. And that’s about it. It sounds really sparse and clinical but the effect is very calming. I felt at peace for the first time in months.

  Just when I was thinking of leaving, this woman sat beside me. She said her name was Eve and she asked me what was wrong. She seemed so kind and concerned everything came pouring out. I wasn’t one for discussing my problems with strangers, it was why I had no luck with counsellors but Eve made me feel so at ease and she knew just what to say to keep me talking. When I’d finally finished I felt so much better, unburdened. It was a relief. She said I should come back that evening, they ran a special group in the hall attached to the side of the church for people with similar issues, she said it would help me. So I went along.”

  She paused to take a breath. “Again, everyone was just as nice as Eve. Looking back on it, the majority of people in the support group were church members who had been schooled in what to say to lure me in. I know only one other person was genuine because she joined the church at the same time I did. All the others were play-acting and they were bloody good at it. They made me feel like only they in the entire world could understand me and that I would only ever be accepted in the church. At the time it was such a relief to find somewhere I felt I belonged. After that I attended the church orations every day, often two or three times. That’s what they call them - orations, not sermons.”

  “What sort of stuff do they preach?” said Brodie.

  “They don’t use the term preach either, they call it advocating. They use all these little choice words so you don’t realise what they’re actually doing - brainwashing you. They have this huge book, supposedly written by Edward Carr, the founder of the church. They say he was a divine, enlightened being who had achieved perfection and this book instructs you on how to achieve perfection too. The stuff they advocate in the actual church is just little snippets to lure you in. They save the really juicy stuff for those at a higher level and higher level translates as richer. They run these courses you see and the first two are free, again just a hook to give you a taste and make you want more. But the rest have to be paid for. The third level is fifty pounds, then a hundred and it keeps increasing. They justify it by saying each level gives you access to higher, more powerful knowledge.”

  “How much is the highest level course?”

  “I don’t know, I never reached it. The highest I got was level twenty one and that was twelve thousand pounds.”

  “What?” he exclaimed. “I hope for that price it told you the meaning of life?”

  “No. In fact it told me nothing I probably couldn’t have arrived at by myself, interspersed with these truly weird bits supposedly written by Edward Carr.”

  “Weird bits?”

  “Yeah. It goes into deep, mind melting detail but the gist of it is that this planet is doomed but not to worry because there’s a group of good aliens who are going to come and save the church members and whisk them away to this gorgeous planet where there’s no pollution or pain or hate and everyone’s always happy.”

  “Sounds dull.”

  “It’s just a rip-off of the Christian version of heaven, except it’s set on a planet in the outer solar system a hundred and fifty million light years away. The church says that people only do bad things because of the devils that live inside us all, which sort of float about the earth looking for people to take over. They were put there by the bad aliens who came to earth thousands of years ago to enslave us all. If you’re a drug addict or an alcoholic or like sex too much then you’re more susceptible to these devils. People who endure trauma, such as I did, also become open to being possessed. The church says they are the only ones who can remove these devils and help you progress to become an enlightened being.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of bad things in my time doll and one thing I’ve learnt is that people do bad things because they want to and because they enjoy them. There are no wee floaty things forcing them.”

  “I quite agree.”

  “Do they talk about these aliens and floaty devils in the orations?”

  “No, they know it would be too much for those who haven’t been fully indoctrinated. Instead they create this vision of the perfect par
adise where everything that ever hurt you can’t exist. What a draw do you think that is to people who are broken?”

  Brodie nodded. “A bloody big draw.”

  “That’s how they reel you in. I was obsessed with this image of this perfect place where me and Matthew would be the perfect couple with the perfect child. A place where pain and depression and darkness didn’t exist.” A tear slipped down her face and she wiped it away on her sleeve. “Back then I would have given anything to be in that place.”

  “So that’s how they operate,” said Brodie. “They home in on people who are damaged, just looking for a quick fix to their problems. Then they fleece them for everything they have.”

  “Yes,” said Elaine. “They say you can’t join if you have attachments to the outside world, you have to be pure, so you need to sever all contact with family and friends. But it’s more than that. It’s not enough for Malachi to separate people from their families, friends and everything they possess. He needs to separate them from themselves, until they’re nothing but an obedient shell, willing to obey his every command.”

  “Is that what you became?”

  “Yes. I won’t deny it. After going to the orations for a few weeks I took the first level course. It was simple stuff, dogma stolen from all the major religions, easy for anyone to get their heads around. The questions are so simple you’d have to be a total moron not to score over ninety percent. When you pass with such a high grade all the executive members of the church praise you, telling you how special you are and how you’re a natural in the church. The next few levels are the same, so easy. They gradually introduce the alien dogma at level ten, when you’re feeling nice and comfortable and they have you firmly in their grasp. By level fifteen you’ve sort of accepted it all, even though it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “And parted with most of your money?”

  She sighed regretfully. “Yes.”

  “I heard they take in children?”

  “They do. They like to start the indoctrination early. They’re taken into the compound and separated from their families, they have separate dorms for the children who are cared for by nannies. They have to wear the same dull black uniform as the adults. The girls have to keep their hair tied back in low ponytails with a simple black band. They’re not allowed colourful hair bobbles.”

  “Do they get to see their parents at all?”

  “An hour three times a week.”

  “That’s all?” He was forcing his voice to remain quiet and calm, despite his growing fury. He’d interviewed many nervous witnesses and yelling didn’t help anyone but it was difficult because he was naturally loud.

  “That’s all.” She looked down at her hands, picking at the skin around her left index finger, which looked raw and sore, as though this was a common habit of hers. “I was a nanny for a few months and it was my responsibility to look after the children. Back then the church wasn’t that big, so there were only half a dozen children, ages ranging from two to nine. Within a few months there were fourteen of them and I couldn’t cope, I had no practical experience with children.” Tears filled her eyes. “They’d cry for their parents. It was worse with the new arrivals. They’d never been separated from them before, they were used to their parents tucking them into their beds in their safe, warm homes, reading them stories and kissing them goodnight. Suddenly they were dumped in this strange, scary, grey place surrounded by strangers. Some of those poor babies would cry for hours. Children aged seven or over are forced to work in the compound - mopping floors, cleaning toilets, everything. They’re worked fourteen hours a day, interspersed with their lessons, which are all designed to indoctrinate them into the church’s teachings. The poor wee souls are exhausted at the end of each day, too tired to even cry for their parents. It was heartbreaking. I couldn’t handle it so I asked to be moved. The church frowns on anyone who requests to be moved from the position they’ve been placed in, they see it as weakness but I have a back condition. It’s nothing serious but I just exaggerated how much pain picking up the children was causing me, so fortunately they moved me without too many questions. They replaced me with a teenage girl. In fact all the nannies are now teenagers, sisters to the younger children. Each teenager is responsible for half a dozen children each. Naturally they can’t cope.

  I was placed in the kitchens, which provide food for everyone in the compound. It was there I met up with Mary Strachan again, the woman who was at my very first meeting of the church support group. I was shocked by how she looked. She was such a pretty woman, very petite with big blue eyes and lots of blond curls. When I saw her in the church she looked to have lost half her bodyweight. At the support group she was quite chirpy and talkative but in the kitchens she walked around with her head bowed, barely speaking.

  After working there for three weeks Mary started to open up to me. The woman in charge of the kitchens - a vicious bitch called Barbara - had worked as a prison guard for years and she ran the kitchen like it was Barlinnie. She wasn’t afraid to hit and kick anyone who displeased her for as little as dropping something on the floor or making lumpy gravy. Barbara always justified herself by saying it was in the basic tenets of the church - a good punch ensured the devils stayed out of your physical body.”

  “Seriously?”

  Elaine nodded. “Physical punishment is how the church ejects these ‘devils’. Apparently they can’t stand it and leave the body, like a form of exorcism.

  There was no one capable of standing up to Barbara, so she continued to abuse us all. Mary was her favourite target. Barbara was a big, ugly, clumsy woman and Mary was pretty and dainty, so it was easy for her. But Mary always refused to cry out during the beatings, which only made Barbara angry and more determined. It got so bad I reported Barbara’s behaviour to the Office of Correction, which is basically where you go if you have a problem, as well as where the troublemakers are sent. They spoke to me, Barbara and Mary, as well as some other members of the kitchen staff but everyone, apart from Mary and I, said Barbara wasn’t doing anything wrong. But we did think one good thing came of reporting the abuse - me and Mary were both moved. However, we were put into The Breach.”

  “The Breach?”

  “An underground prison in the base of the compound split into individual cells.”

  “How many of these cells are there?”

  “I can’t be sure because Mary and I were rarely allowed out of the one we were in but I think about ten. The walls are bare stone, the floor tiled and cold, no windows. Just harsh, fluorescent light. You’re given a rough grey uniform to wear with the letter ‘C’ stitched onto the front.”

  “What does ‘C’ mean?”

  “Corrupt. The church said we’d been infected by the devils, that somehow they’d got inside us despite being within the sanctity of the church and we needed to be cleansed.”

  “Cleansed?”

  “Repetitive actions, like walking from one side of the room to the other, or walking on the spot for hours on end. Then, when you’re completely exhausted and going out of your mind with boredom, they start with the psychological torment. It was the only time we were allowed out of The Breach. I was taken first. I can’t describe how happy I was when I was taken upstairs to the next level and I could see daylight again. It was only then I realised I’d been in that place for two weeks. I remember looking out of the window at the gardens below. The trees blowing in the wind and the sight of the flowers were a miracle to me.

  The blinds were pulled and they started with their questions - point to the window, point to the door, what is a door used for? What is the purpose of a desk? Stupid, pointless questions over and over for hours to grind you down, wear you out, make you compliant. It works too. By the end of it you’re willing to do anything they say to make it stop. Combined with the physical exhaustion I would have hurled myself out of the window if they’d asked me to. It was then they became sympathetic, kind, just like Eve had been when I’d first walked into that bloody place. T
hey gave me food, real food, not just the thin stew and dry bread we’d had for the past two weeks. They asked me about my relationship with Mary. They’d got it into their heads that we were lovers.”

  “Were you?”

  “No. We were both entirely heterosexual. Not that either of us had anything against those who weren’t but it turned out the church did. We didn’t know that until we progressed to the higher levels. When you first join they make out they’re oh so tolerant and everyone is welcome then gradually their prejudices start coming out. They don’t even like people having sex outside of marriage. I denied we had a sexual relationship. I immediately knew this had come from Barbara and she’d used it to justify her excessive violence, which explained why she hadn’t got into trouble. As she’d been with the church for a lot longer than either me or Mary they believed her over us. I was sent back to The Breach and Mary was taken away. I never saw her again.”

  Elaine burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Brodie waited for her to get it out of her system.

  “I remained alone in The Breach for another four or five days. I can’t be sure how long. Then I was let out, although I had to keep on wearing the grey uniform with the ‘C’ on. That meant no one could speak to me or even look at me in case they got infected with the devils inside me. I had to attend lecture after lecture, as well as more of the adjustment therapy.”

  “Did you find out what happened to Mary?”

  “They said she’d been sent to Edinburgh to have more adjustment therapy, that’s where they take the worst troublemakers, the ones they consider to be beyond redemption. They thought neither of us would stop our sinful ways unless we were separated.”

  “Did you believe them?”

  “No. It wouldn’t be the first time people from the church had vanished, never to be seen again. I realised it could so easily be me next, so I made plans to escape.”

  “You weren’t free to just leave then?”

  “No. Once you’re in the compound you’re in for life. You sign a contract stating that you will never leave. The only way out is to buy your way out with a donation so huge you don’t have a hope of paying it unless you’re really rich. They gave me a bill for one hundred thousand pounds for all the adjustment therapy, a bill I’ve never paid.”